


The Sentinel Part One

by TheNameless15



Series: The Sentinel [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNameless15/pseuds/TheNameless15
Summary: Balance must come to the Force. But at what cost?
Relationships: Darth Zannah/Original Character(s), Eleena Daru/Darth Malgus, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: The Sentinel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705297
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. The Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end?

"What the kriff d'you call that trooper?"  
Lieutenant Caan was usually a fairly patient man, but when the fourth laser cannon completely misfired his patience was at an end.  
"Always check for blockages BEFORE firing! You could have wiped out the entire unit! Gimme five laps, now!"  
"Sorry sir". Caan watched, his anger fading as the sheepish soldier began to slowly jog around the training field. Although the incompetence of the 55th Platoon was depressingly obvious, most of his anger was directed at his commanders back in the Core. Since the last Imperial remnants had been cleaned up, the main threat to peace had been from the spice-smuggling and slaving gangs of the Outer Rim. But in a vain effort to impress the Senate, the precious credits needed to build an effective Special Ops division was being squandered on AT-AT walkers and heavy cannon that had not been deployed in a generation!  
This was one of the greatest problems for any army: generals were almost always more interested in prestigious weapons and giant ships than they were in training the disciplined, motivated and well-equipped soldiers the galaxy needed. Special Ops numbered barely 10,000 in the first place, but rather than recruiting the best of the best from the ranks, the brass had recruited new conscripts. The 55th platoon was now composed of 1000 men, of whom only 100 had Special Forces experience, and only 3 were career officers! Moreover, it didn't take a Kaminoan clone scientist to work out that posting a platoon of young, single soldiers to Ryloth wasn't the smartest move. The only pastimes for his men on this desert planet were taking spice and consorting with the notoriously beautiful Twi'lek females, neither of which were particularly conducive to the strength of the Platoon.  
The sound of yet another training cannon backfiring abruptly jerked Caan from his revelry. Sometimes he wondered if he'd ever whip these troops into shape...  
****  
Grand Master Fossa Akiba sat up in bed, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him.  
"Master Akiba. How nice it is to see you, my friend."  
"Can I help you?"  
The apparition standing at the foot of the bed was unremarkable in almost every way. He was human, of average height and build, and his hair was the kind of silvery black that gives almost no indication of age. Akiba estimated he was anywhere from 35 to 50 standard years old. He was dressed in nondescript clothes, his skin was not particularly pale or dark, his eyes were almost black in colour, and his tunic was made of the sort of coarse brown synthetic material found everywhere in the galaxy. However, he radiated an aura of power, of KNOWLEDGE, greater than that of any Jedi Fossa Akiba had seen in his long tenure as a Jedi Master. Also striking was the knowing smile that he wore on his face. It was most peculiar.  
"I think not, my friend. But whether I can help you, well now, that is as different matter."  
"Wh-, who are you?"  
"Aha! That's a good question, Master. To you, I am the Sentinel. I have many names, and many faces. I am what flows through your veins, I am in matter and in space, in light and in dark, in ignorance and in knowledge."  
"You're a Force-ghost?"  
"Yes, a force-ghost if you will. And I come to advise you, Master Akiba. You would do well to heed my advice, my friend."  
Slightly nonplussed, Akiba nonetheless nodded his assent to the mysterious figure.  
"Remember my words, Grand Master Akiba. When the system is most secure, cracks will appear. The force is readying itself. Soon, balance will become manifest. But balance, and what you desire, are not always the same. The force is boiling, and soon it will explode. When that times comes, remember my words, and use them wisely."  
****  
Walking through the Temple the following day, Akiba could not help but ponder the Sentinel's words. The greetings and awe-inspired gazes of the many younglings and padawans roaming the corridors of the stone structure drew know response from him- today he was deep in thought. Although it was probably a figment of his subconscious mind, he remembered one thing the figure has said- "The Force is boiling". "Boiling". He could not have put it better himself. The Force was raging, impatiently, as if waiting for the dam to burst, like a rising wave of uneasy discontent. He, and all the other masters, could feel it. He just hoped that when it broke it would not jeopardise the fragile peace.


	2. Korriban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Korriban, something is stirring...

It wasn't fair.  
Tarro knew that they'd said if he couldn't pay they wouldn't take him all the way to Kashyyyk, but throwing him off the ship on this barren lump of rock was a low move, even for the smugglers he'd hitched a ride with. "It wasn't fair". Tarro Sajeen's fourteen standard years could be quite easily categorised by that phrase. He was moderately force-sensitive, certainly enough to enter the Jedi Order, but as a seven year old orphan he'd been "compassionately rejected", which was the Jedi way of saying "kriff off, you're more trouble than you're worth". As a Twi'lek-Human half breed, he drew enough stares as it was, and only the smugglers would take him to Kashyyyk, a place where he'd planned to make a new life. This planet was strange. There was no real sign of sentient habitation- there were not even any birds singing. It was a desert, yes, but Tarro couldn't think of anything to describe it as but dead. Overcome by frustration, he bunched his fists and began to walk towards the nearest building, a stone temple raised on a dais. He swore he could hear voices, sinister voices, taunting him.  
"...you're worthless, Tarro, the Jedi rejected you..."  
"...reject..."  
"...half bred scum..."  
"NO!"  
Tarro screamed in anger, lashing out with his years of pent up rage and hatred. A wave of dark energy radiated from his uncurled fists and hit the dais. At once, cracks appeared in the structure, which seemed to glow red. Inexplicably, a figure stepped from the broken wall, and hissed out a croaking laugh.  
"So, the prophecy was true! The one the Jedi spurned will bring about the end!"  
Tarro watched in amazement as several more figures stepped out from the shadows. The last, a huge bear of a man, dressed in coarse black robes and with a curved lightsaber, flicked out his tongue, tasting the air he had been so long denied. He moved with a feline grace that belied his enormous bulk.  
"My Lords, as the prophecy of the Sentinel announced, the hour has come! I, the Sith'ari, will lead the greatest of our kind against the liars and filth of the Jedi and the Republic. Together, we will obliterate the light and bring true balance to the Force!"  
Sitting stunned on the dusty earth, Tarro could take stock of the situation. There were seven humanoid figures in front off him. The man who had spoken, two similar-looking males, blue skinned and in respirators, a large male with long straight hair, a strange looking half bred human with sharp teeth and a carnivorous looking expression, a young, very attractive woman with blonde and dark dyed hair, and lastly, the figure who had convinced Tarro this was an illusion.  
The Emperor himself.  
Like all sentient beings in the Galaxy, Tarro had read how Jedi Master Rey had defeated him in the Deep Core. This had to be an illusion- he'd been walking for hours now!  
"Who is this?" the tall man with long hair spoke first.  
"My- my name is Tarro Sajeen..."  
"I sense the Force in you, boy"- it was the smaller man with the respirator who spoke now.  
"Yes sir, that's right. The JEDI- Tarro spat the words out- said I was too old to train.  
Chuckling slightly, it was the Emperor's turn to speak now. "Excellent, excellent. The prophecy predicted that a young one, strong in the Force but rejected by the Jedi would awake the Sith. The Waker has played his part, my Lords."  
"Played-, my lord?"  
"Yes, young Tarro. We have power unimaginable at your fingertips. Our rage, scorned by arrogant fools, will scorch the homes of those who have wronged us. The hapless Jedi shall watch, as we rob our enemies of their wealth, exterminate their armies, bathe their loved ones in tears! The Dark Side shall cleanse the impure of the Galaxy. Led by the Sith'ari, Darth Bane! The prophecy of the Sentinel is complete!"  
Tarro, though in a daze, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the Emperor's rousing speech. All his life he had been cheated and deceived, and the Jedi and Republic had done nothing for him. He owed loyalty to NOONE but himself.  
Nods of assent came from the other figures. The Sentinel had predicted all this, after all. Bane would lead them, for now. After the Jedi had fallen, then they could divide up the galaxy. "Very good, very good my lords." The woman stepped forward. The Sentinel told us all we need to know about the time we find ourselves in, but what of our battle strategy?"  
" Yes, my old Apprentice, you make a very good point." Bane spoke, his voice asserting an almost military tone of command.  
"My Lord Exar Kun, go to the moon of Kebaal, off Dromund Kaas. There is a Sith pureblood colony there which the Emperor (laced with venomous undertones) commissioned at the beginning of the Empire. Rally them to our cause. Darth Zannah, I want you to blackmail the Neimoidian leader, Kune Djaabo, into giving up his droid army. It has been revealed to me that he is less than careful with his financial records. Ragnos, go to Dathomir and rally the Nightbrothers and Sisters to our cause, but go in the guise of neo-Seperatists. Darth Malak, the Mandorians were your allies in the past. Bobs Fett's grandson, Jako, has no great love for the Republic and will happily unite with the Dathomirians. Malgus, go to Ryloth. You can pose as a spice smuggler from Coruscant looking to do business with the gangs there. And lastly, my friend Darth Sidious, rally the last off the Imperials. The Sentinel has revealed to me all that passed since my death, and has told me how to proceed. I imagine he has done the same for you." The rest of the assembled Sith nodded their assent. "Within two standard years, we should be ready to move against the Republic. Only through violence will we purge the Force!"  
The assembled Sith bowed to each other before disappearing into the distance. Some moments later Tarro heard the firing up of shuttle engines as they left to do the Sith'ari's bidding.  
"Unfortunately, my young friend" hissed Bane, "no one can know of what transpired today. Perhaps you will be remembered some day. You have begun the greatest War in the history of the galaxy, my boy. Such a shame you won't be alive to see it." Tarro Sajeen, perhaps the most critical footnote in galactic history, barely saw the flash of the crimson lightsabre that ended his life. Darth Bane had returned to the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. The Ryloth Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malgus' memories catch up with him. Lieutenant Caan has to solve a gruesome mystery on Ryloth.

Darth Malgus of the Sith snapped out of his trance as the ship exited Hyperspace. In the three standard weeks since he and the Dark Lords has been woken on Korriban, his mind had cleared slightly. He could remember flashes of his past life: sacking the Jedi Temple, becoming a Dark Lord, winning victories, but all of his memories were permeated by an odd sense of longing and sadness hee couldn't quite locate.  
"Ship approaching area of habitation"- the mechanical voice of a droid told him. Although his ship was small enough to be piloted by him alone, it had somehow been waiting for him on Korriban, he preferred to spend his time training and meditating, despite the fact that he had returned to corporeal form in prime physical condition.  
"Landing successfully executed."  
The droid's metallic whir reminded Malgus he had a job to do.  
*****  
Malgus left his shuttle under the care of his droid. The shuttle, like his lightsaber, had appeared on Korriban. Like the other Dark Lords of the Sith who had been reborn, the Sentinel had SHOWN him everything that had transpired since his death. He had seen Mandalore falling, the Battles of Ruusan, the Clone Wars, the Empire, Vader's sacrifice, the defeat of Sidious on Byss. The Sentinel had imprinted the information into his brain- the Force had shown him its manifest will, and Malgus, whilst arrogant, was no fool. Yet his own life was shrouded in mystery, his memories hidden in shadow. Not quite a dream, but neither quite awake. Shaking his head, he dismissed this weakness. He had a job to do. The Jedi had to be lured to Ryloth. Malgus' plan was to spark a conflict between the spice gangs, and hopefully manipulate the various political factions on this putrid planet into starting a civil war. Aided by their preposterous notions of "keeping the peace", the Jedi would rush in, and would be completely blind to the machinations of his allies as they gathered their armies. Striding purposefully towards the darker areas of New Ryloth City, Malgus felt that nagging sensation again, but dismissed it as a mild side effect of being dead for three millennia. He had just crossed into a deserted alleyway, when he saw.  
"Eleena!" He cried out almost before he knew what he was looking at. A blue-skinned Twi'lek, walking slowly towards the thoroughfare. He staggered slightly as a rush of colour, sound and emotion washed over him. His memories flooded back into his brain, like a dammed river. The feeling of love, of contentment, the pure power of feeling that he was experiencing. Pure passion. The dark side made manifest. The Sentinel had brought her back! This battle they would face, together as they had always done before. The Sith could wait, the Jedi could wait, as long as his Eleena was by his side, everything would be all right. He began to run, babbling insanely as he did so-  
"Eleena, you've been waiting for me! The Sentinel brought you back too! The old Emperor's gone my love, now we can be to-"  
He was cut off as the realisation hit him. He heard the soft, almost mocking voice of the Sentinel inside his head, reciting the first line of the Sith Code he knew so well, drilled into him from a thousand angles, turning the creed by which he had lived his life into barbed lies of pure torture:  
"Peace is a lie, peace is a lie, peace is a lie..."  
And suddenly he knew with certainty- he would never be at peace. This bemused Twi'lek was not his Eleena. He had killed her all those years ago. His Eleena was dead, he would never see his Eleena again. The impotent rage of millennia boiled up inside him, overflowing his body, tendrils of dark energy snaking across his face, looking for something, anything, to obliterate and destroy. Screaming with hate, he saw his lightsaber flash, heard the female's screams, saw her dead body fall before him. He sheathed his sword and walked as calmly as he could towards the cantina he was supposed to be infiltrating. But inside his cold mask, he could hear a soft voice speaking lovingly to him-  
"Veradun, Veradun, I'm waiting my love..."  
For the first time in millennia, Darth Malgus, Sacker of Coruscant, Slayer of Jedi, Dark Lord of the Sith, felt a cold tear fall from his eye, evaporating on the heated iron of his impenetrable mask.  
*****  
Lieutenant Caan was fuming. He was an officer of the Republic, yet he was being called to some sordid murder scene on his day off, along with a small complement of troops- he wasn't exactly Mr Popular to the local gangs, a fact he relished. Whenever he ventured beyond the Republic Base, he had to go with a military escort, not that this bunch of no-hopers would be any help in a gunfight, he thought to himself, chuckling.  
"Any idea why they want us here sir?" Sergeant Cass inquired of Caan.  
"Unfortunately not Sergeant" huffed Caan, "those local tailbrain blue hats better have a good reason for calling me out on my..."  
Lieutenant Caan and Sergeant Cass had fought against the New Empire in Byss and Kashyyyk, and in their time together in Special Ops had seen some truly horrific sights. They had seen villages sacked, wanton cruelty of all kinds, rape, murder, every kind of debauchery committed by all sides. Yet both of them, and the half dozen men they led, were stunned into silence at the gruesome sight.  
"Now you see why we called you sir." The local Twi'lek police officer gruffly intoned. "These wounds are not the work of cheap blasters or knives. And the way the brute has disfigured the female's Lekku is frankly barbaric."  
The medic who had been sent with Caan's squad, Kyle Ulabore, bent down to inspect the fallen Twi'lek.  
"The Lekku were severed before death, sir. It appears the murderer was both immensely skilled with a blade, based on the cutting pattern, but also quite deranged. The severing of the Lekku would have caused catastrophic injuries. However, she probably passed out from it, the Lekku are highly sensitive to pain."  
"That's not all they're sensitive too, eh Kyle?" laughed a trooper crassly.  
"Have some kriffing respect you fool! This is someone's daughter!" snarled Caan. "If what you say is true, they may have stolen weapons from our base, or even more worryingly, purchased them on the black market. Who was on guard last night?"  
"Ahem, excuse me sir?" Agen Waal, the Zabrak trooper who Caan had yelled often during drills spoke up timidly. Cass moved to quiet the young male, but Caan indicated he could speak.  
"These look like lightsaber marks, sir. See how the wounds have been cauterised almost totally?"  
"He might be onto something, sir, " Ulabore said. "These definitely aren't from any kind of blaster. But who has access to one of them, here?"  
Caan sensed murmurings of unease pass among the men. He knew instinctively Ulabore and Waal were most probably correct, but he didn't want this getting out to anyone beyond the Jedi and himself. In times like these, rumours of lightsaber-armed murderers running around the Outer Rim wasn't good for morale. "Very well," said Caan. "Thanks for your help, Officer. As a member of special ops I'm required to report this to a Jedi Knight. If it is a lightsaber wound, we may have a very dangerous thief on our hands. Platoon, move it!"  
Little did the 55th Platoon know, but the war had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Jedi Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi Council meets to discuss the possibility that there are rogue force users still at large. Ben is sent to Cato Neimoidia.

"Impossible!"  
The giant human, Goor Partey, seated next to Grand Master Akiba was clearly stunned at the news of a lightsaber-wielding assassin on Ryloth, as indeed was most of the council. Partey was an immensely powerful swordsman and force-user, but subtlety was not his forte.  
"Are you sure of your information, Master Oberan?"  
"The source is the third highest ranked officer in the Special Ops division. I would trust Lieutenant Caan with my life. It may be that the autopsy is incorrect, or that the gangs have somehow found an old Sith weapon. In the hands of an untrained non-force-sensitive, a lightsaber is hardly more dangerous than a blaster rifle." Raskta Oberan, swordsmistress of the Jedi, replied unflappably. "Special Ops can continue investigating this, especially as we have more pressing issues to be debating."  
"Very well, let us address these issues now", replied Akiba. He was troubled by the revelations: the nocturnal visitor the previous night had unsettled him more than he liked to admit, but he did not show it. "Master Moondi, you have news from Neimoidia? "  
"Yes, Master Akiba," replied the Muun. "The Trade Federation is preparing for war. There is unrest across the galaxy at Hugo Valorum's planned voting reforms. But why a prosperous Mid Rim system like this should wish to foment unrest is beyond me. Perhaps some kind of financial incentive; the Counts of Serenno have never been particularly enamoured with the Republic. Or perhaps blackmail; the Neimoidians are notorious cowards. I recommend we dispatch a covert Jedi operation to investigate further."  
"I agree", said Akiba. The dozen or so masters around the room also murmured their assent. "Do you have a candidate in mind, Master?"  
"My former Padawan Ben Muldoon would be an excellent choice" replied Moondi. "He was born on Neimoidia, his parents were diplomats there. He is a most capable young Jedi."  
"Good, it is agreed then. You may break the news to him tonight."  
"I'm sure he will be delighted, Grand Master", the Muun replied with a fond smile.  
****  
Ben Muldoon was anything but delighted. In his mind, his first mission would have involved rescuing a princess from dark side agents in Naboo, fighting alongside Wookiees in Kashyyyk, or battling droids on Geonosis. Instead, he would be spending his time conversing with the noseless, soulless denizens of his home planet, one he had not hoped to visit in the foreseeable future.  
"I know R7, it'll be good to see my birth world I guess. I left when I was just a toddler."  
Ben was walking briskly towards his X-wing convertable- basically an X-wing fighter connected to living and storage quarters by reinforced Cortosis. It was a sturdy ship and had served many Jedi well over the years. His trusty droid, R7-418, trundled along beside him.  
"Neimoidia, here we come!"  
****  
Everything was going as planned for Darth Bane. Zannah had checked in a few standard hours previously, announcing that the Neimoidians were ramping up their droid production. Some things never changed- when confronted with any kind of threat, Neimoidians snivelled or ran. Malak had checked in recently, Jako Fett had been convinced that his people would rise again. Mandalore the Redeemer, as he was now known, was preparing for war. He had not heard from Kun, which was not surprising given the distance to Dromund Kaas, and Malgus was doing his job of distracting the Republic most excellently. The Sentinel had revealed all to them, and the Jedi of today were no match for the greatest Sith adepts of all time. Still, arrogance was a fool's luxury, he mused to himself. He must remain vigilant at all times. Startled from his ruminations, Bane heard his HoloPad bleeping rapidly. "Ragnos? I assume you have reached Dathomir?" "Yes, Darth Bane. I will make contact with mother Malkiin at first light tomorrow." "Good, good. Her troops will be key to our plans," replied Darth Bane. The prophecy of the Sentinel, who had haunted the Siths' dreams as they lay in their tombs, was coming to pass. And the Jedis' heads were buried deeply in the sand.


	5. Neimoidia's Boring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little racist to Neimoidians lol.  
> But hey, noone likes the noseless wankers anyway ðŸ˜‰

Ben was exhausted. He had discovered, like millions before him, that getting meaningful financial information from a Neimoidian was like getting blood out of cortosis. In other words, tiring and unproductive. After another long day of hearing evasive answers about "fiscal responsibility", "supply and demand" and "business confidentiality" he was ready to quit.  
However, Ben Muldoon did not become a Jedi Knight by quitting. He had decided to try and speak to some of the non-Neimoidian employees, and there was nowhere better to do that than the cantina at the Trade Federation HQ. For Neimoidia, it was the epitome of luxury- plastic chairs, bland food, outrageously priced Corellian whiskey, and a view of the grey, drab coastline of this grey, drab world.  
Ben had only become a night a few standard months previously, and had excelled in all areas of his training. However, like all beings, he had a weakness. Raised until the relatively late age of 5 on Cato Neimoidia, his parents had died only weeks after his birth in an accident. Although his Neimoidian carers had provided him with food, water, and clothing, and had given him books and toys, the lack of familial contact in his early years had left him craving affection, something in short supply in the Jedi Order. He knew and understood the Jedi Code, but he could never really suppress these particular feelings. Scanning around for a friendly looking face, Ben instantly spotted a young woman, probably several older than his own seventeen standard years. She was eating a plate of the mysteriously named "Dish of the Day", on whose ingredients the best Sabacc players in the galaxy would not think about betting. Brave, he thought to himself. He was naturally drawn to her, not because of her appearance, but because of the aura of power surrounding her. Clearly, she was high up in the command structure of this world.  
"Hi, I'm Rainah. Do you work here?" smiled the woman.  
"Hi, nice to see a nose around here once in a while!" joked Ben, cringing as he spoke at his bumbling attempts at humour. Despite the Jedi teachings against forming attachments, he was still embarrassed by his hopelessness when it came to the opposite sex. Luckily, the woman seemed to appreciate it. Ben found himself admiring her dyed black-blonde hair and attractive face, then caught himself and went back to the matter at hand.  
"Yes, I'm from the Jedi. I was actually raised here, but I joined the Order when I was five. We're just having some friendly discussions with them about their droid build-up."  
"Well, that's interesting! I'm from the security firm that placed one of the orders!" chirped the woman. Then she suddenly turned serious.  
"Please don't arrest me, Master Jedi!" she laughed, shattering the false expression and smiling seductively.  
Ben also laughed with relief at finally getting to release some of the pent-up tension from over the last few weeks.  
"Don't worry Rainah, strictly here as a forensic accountant I'm afraid," laughed Ben. There was something about the woman's easy charm that immediately put the Jedi Knight at ease. "I only need to ask some questions is all, the Council's still a bid on edge after the last war. Some of them still have memories of it, you know."  
"Sure, that's fine", the woman replied. "I'm in Room 54, Block D. Drop by tomorrow, we can discuss it then." Men were such simple creatures, she thought as she chuckled to herself. A kriffing Jedi should at least have some control over his emotions.  
"I'd best be turning in if I want to make that interview with the Premier tomorrow. Night, Rainah!" called Ben  
"Night, Ben!" The woman's feelings of worry washed away as she saw his expression- he obviously had no idea as to her true nature. Even so, he would have to be eliminated. As Ben Muldoon walked away he had a little spring in his step. Smiling, he thought to himself that Neimoidia might not be so boring after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading! This is a novella, so the violence won't come just yet...


	6. Dathomir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marka Ragnos recruits an army.

Beauty and barbarity often went hand in hand when it came to the dark side, Marka Ragnos found himself musing as the wild, virgin forests of Dathomir came into view. Shimmering sapphire oceans gave way to rolling hills and snow-capped mountains. The lust, semi-tropical forests extended way up to the hillside, locked in a vicious embrace with the snow-covered peaks. There was little sign of urbanisation- Marka knew that this proud, savage people preferred to use the Force for other things than building lavish cities and lofty, imposing temples. Their society was ancient, matriarchal, and extremely militaristic. The subservient Nightbrothers lived in small villages on the east side of the small planet, where the strongest every year would be selected to serve a Nightsister. The powerful dark-side sorcery of the latter would transform the small, lithe hunters into hulking giants, their minds broken and used only for mating and war. He had only visited the system once or twice, but it had always been steeped in the powers of the Dark Side of the Force. Besides Darth Maul, the old Sith Academy on the planet had produced many a fine acolyte, warrior and assassin. The Sentinel had shown him the pivotal role it played in the Ruusan war, providing the Sith with the bulk of it's force-sensitive armies.  
Today, however, Ragnos was not looking to recruit new Sith lords. His aim was to persuade Mother Malkiin to pledge the Nightsisters, and by extension the subservient Nightbrothers of Dathomir, to an assault on the Republic. Scanning the landscape, he located a narrow airstrip, carefully piloting his small craft as it came into land. He was met immediately by two tall Nightsisters armed with the force staffs their species traditionally fought with. Ragnos was impressed despite himself. Were he not able to sense life with the force, and were he not expected by Mother Malkiin, there was no way he would have noticed the warriors until it was too late. "Follow me, Darth Ragnos. Mother Malkiin has been expecting you" , intoned the taller Sister in barely intelligible Basic. Both sisters then turned on their heels, and began to jog briskly along the narrow trail. Ragnos followed, his endurance beyond normal levels due to the Force flowing through his veins. ***** The Nightsisters' village was underwhelming at first sight. It would not have looked out of place on some primitive Outer Rim planet, so to find it on Dathomir, one of the cradles of galactic civilisation, was a surreal experience for the Sith. A large fire burned bright in the village centre, which was a collection of dwelling huts. A few hulking males sat around the fire, necks chained to huge stakes implanted into the ground. Ragnos knew from his time spent perusing the Sith Archives on Korriban that these were the creme de la creme of Nightbrothers, selected in trials of strength to be artificially boosted in muscle mass, be subverted to their particular Nightsisters mistress' will, and be used for fighting and breeding. Seated just in front of the fire was Mother Malkiin. She was surprisingly frail for the leader of such a warlike tribe, but the carved tattoos of a Dathomiri shaman engraved into her lithe forearms, and the icy blue fire radiating from her eyes told of a strength that the body does not possess. "Ragnos. I was warned by Lord Bane to expect you. He says that it is a matter of the utmost urgency." She casually shooed the two Nightsisters away and leaned toward the fire, awaiting Marka's response. "Honoured Mother, the Jedi must die. Along with the Mandalorian and Droid armies, your warriors will keep the Army of the Republic and the Jedi fully occupied. Meanwhile, the Sith will exterminate them all, one by one." "I have already given the matter some thought, and have decided to accept. However, you must have the support of the Mandalorian clans first." "Very well, mother. However I caution you, do not reveal to your warriors my, or Lord Bane's, true identity. The war depends on it. Smiling inscrutably, Malkiin inclined her head. "You have my word, my Lord."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Mandalore the Redeemer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Malak visits some old friends...

When Darth Malak had last been on Mandalore, so may years ago, it had been a beautiful place. With a temperate climate, mountain ranges, lakes, rivers, forests and seas it had been teeming with life, projecting an air of aloof nobility.  
How times had changed.  
The planet Malak saw now as he came out of hyperspace was so far removed from the Mandalore he remembered he double-checked his holopad to see if he'd got the wrong system. Then he remembered. The Sentinel had "shown" them this too, or rather imprinted it onto their memories. Mandalore had been decimated long before the Clone Wars, but Jako Fett had rebuilt the Mask of Mandalore, and settled the planet's western hemisphere with several hundred thousand descendents of the Clone Troopers, themselves clones of Jango Fett.  
They had taken control of the biospheres on the East of the planet, and as one clan, the Clan Fett, they had risen again.  
Not for the first time, Malak wondered as to the true nature of the Sentinel. It appeared to him that he was a manifestation of the dark side of the Force. All he had revealed to the Sith was his name, his prophetic nature and that he would "bring them up to speed" (ie imprint on their memories) on galactic affairs since their respective deaths.  
Shaking his head to clear the thought , Malak prepared to land.  
******  
Malak had decided to go in the guise of Alek Hetton, a dissident Republican officer who was opposed to Valorum's reforms and wanted to force him out of office. He hoped that by massaging Fett's ego he could coax him into attacking a Republic ship nearby, whilst assuring him that sympathetic Senators would veto military action.  
"Mister Hetton, Sir. Please follow me, Mandalore is waiting to see you."  
Malak was met at the launchpad by two burly Mandalorian warriors, clad in traditional armour and armed with blasters. Their gruff accents were nonetheless respectful, as if they sensed Malak's power.  
"Thank you." Malak replied, following them a short distance to a waiting shuttle. The ride was short, and after a few minutes of speeding along the barren desert road they came to an impressive metal structure, clearly this was the Palace of Mandalore.  
"Please follow us sir" the first soldier said, leading the way to an elevator. Few seconds later, the doors clanked open and they were inside Fett's quarters.  
"Thank you Vilius, Blake. You may leave us now."  
Both men bowed and made their exits.

Jako Fett was a man who oozed confidence. He was roughly 30 standard years old, nearly 2 metres tall and possessed the easy charm of a man who knew he didn't have to bully to get his way.  
"Senator Hetton. I understand you are here to voice your concerns over Valorum's latest misguided bill."  
Pleased he had avoided the usual tiresome and grating formalities associated with political discussions, Malak answered quickly:  
"That is correct, Mandalore. Valorum's new bill will completely eradicate indigenous customs across the galaxy. Republic administrators will be sent in to run Mandalore, and many other planets, as their personal fiefdoms. I for one will not stand idly by and allow our cultures to be trampled beneath the pretentious Core's heavy feet."  
Malak, for all his many talents, was perhaps most skilled at the art of subtle manipulation. He noted with satisfaction the effect his words were having on the gullible leader.

"I see Senator. I am in full agreement with you, but what can we do about it?"  
"Although Valorum is able to command a majority on this issue, the Alderaanian and Coruscanti senators are anxious to maintain peace. If you were to instigate a skirmish with the nearby Star Cruiser, the Senate would be brought to a standstill and Valorum would be replaced by a candidate who has more respect for the diverse cultures of the Galaxy. The Dathomirians are also with us, and the Trade Federation's droid armies will assist you. With the martial skills of yourself and your people by our side, we will not fail."  
It was the last remark that swung it for Fett. The Sith's praise for his abilities washed over him, driving away any doubts he had  
"I am with you, Senator Hetton. I hope we can do business again sometime."  
"Of course, Mandalore," Darth Malak replied, smiling as he returned to hiss shuttle at the ruler's vain stupidity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Dangerous Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben discusses his most intimate memories. The mystery on Ryloth deepens.

The sun was setting on Cato Neimoidia, it's glow illuminating the drab grey streets of the Trade Federation's HQ, bathing it in a surreal golden veneer. There was almost no-one about at this time, and it was for this reason that Ben often chose this time for his evening walks and meditation.  
Tonight however, he had to meet Rainah. He had exhausted almost every lead when conversing with the Neimoidians, who had given evasive answers, cited obscure copyright law, and in some cases flatly refused to answer the beleaguered Jedi. He was no further to understanding where the droid order had come from, but the fact that no one would give him a straight answer only served to increase his burgeoning suspicions.  
Climbing the last few stairs to Rainah's apartment, Ben felt a strange sense of nervousness in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, in fact quite the opposite, but he had certainly not experienced it before.  
Shaking his head to compose himself, Ben went to knock on the door, but saw it open before him.  
"Ben, come in!" Rainah cooed, her friendly voice echoing through the corridors. "I've been looking forward to this interrogation!" she laughed, a flirtatious edge to her voice.  
Ben smiled politely, accepting an offered seat in the spartan living quarters.  
"I must say, Rainah-"  
"Call me Rain, please"  
"Sorry, Rain. I would have thought those stingy Neimoidians would have given you a nicer place-"  
Ben cut himself off as the crassness of his latest remark struck him, cringing as he spoke. This woman was the only one of the Federation's employees helping with his inquiry, yet he was behaving with the social dexterity of a Rancor in a tearoom! Luckily, Rain seemed to be unaffected.  
"Us humans always get screwed over on this planet, I'm afraid. Surely you should know that, you're a native!"  
"Hey, barely! I left when I was five!" Ben laughed. "Anyway, you said you had some info on the droids."  
"Yes, that's right. I'll send you a holopad tomorrow, most of it's quite technical. Would you like something to drink by the way? I have some of the local soap-spirit here."  
Neimoidian sap-spirit (the name was unpronounceable in Basic) was one of the few things offered generously on Cato Neimoidia, probably because it inebriated businessmen to the extent that they agreed to outrageous contracts they would never have signed while sober.  
"Thanks Raiaaaaaargh!"  
Ben's voice tailed off when the alcohol hit his mouth, turning him a shade of red he wouldn't have thought possible for a Twi'lek.  
Rain burst out laughing, giggling at the expression on the face of the hapless young Jedi. "Strong, huh?"  
"This stuff could strip the metal of a star destroyer!" laughed Ben, seeing the funny side of the situation. That smell reminds me of my father, he always used to say it was an acquired taste.  
"Does he still drink it?"  
"He died when I was five" Ben replied quietly. "Him and my mother together, in a starship accident. It's one of the few memories I have about him."  
"You poor thing..." Rain whispered, lightly stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. "Did the Jedi take you in?"  
Ben nodded, trying hard to fight back the tide of emotion welling up inside his chest. He felt an inexplicable urge to open up to her. He knew she would understand.  
"The Jedi took me in, fed me, clothed me, taught me everything I knew. But the feeling I get whenever I remember my mother holding me, they tell me it leads to the dark side. But I can't let go of it, it's- it's all I have left of them..."  
Tears were flowing freely down Ben's face now, the tide of feeling flooding back into him as he opened his soul up to this woman he barely knew. Sympathetically clicking her tongue, Rain embraced him, holding his shaking shoulders and kissing the top of his head.  
Slowly, the tears began to subside, and after several minutes she began to pull away.  
"Don't let go, Rain..."  
In that instant, Darth Zannah of the Sith knew she had done it. She felt the last shred of the Jedi's mental barrier break, the years of controlled meditation and thought no match for the conflicting desire and loss emanating from this man.


	9. The Shadow of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The threats to the Republic multiply, and the spark is lit that will start the fires of war.

Jako Fett sat up in bed, inhaling sharply as he heard the voice.  
"Mandalore."  
Eyes bleary with sleep, he groggily raised his head, blinking as a sudden light flooded the room.  
"Mandalore the Redeemer. Saviour of the clans. Your time has come."  
Jako gasped in surprise as his eyes fell on the apparition before him. Bathed in an unearthly white glow, the figure was a humanoid, tall and lithe, with green skin, clawed hands and a well-muscled body. He was dressed in a dark robe, and wore on his face the Mask of Mandalore. The figure was a Taung.  
"Redeemer, I come to you from Father Mortiis beyond, to bring tidings of war. I, Mandalore the first, led my people from the flaming cities of Coruscant. We, the Taung, stood against the Thirteen Tribes. Thousands of years before the Republic, we were defeated. I led my people to Mandalore."  
Jako of course knew this, his mother and grandfather had narrated this to him, but such was his awe at seeing his people's hero in the flesh, he could barely speak.  
"Times passed. The Sith used us as pawns to fight the Jedi. The Revan, purifier of all illusion, subjugated us and hid the Mask of Mandalore. Yet we were not defeated. The Preserver rebuilt our clans, and raised us up again."  
"For three thousand years, our clans have fought against each other. Our home was made into a barren desert. Your great-grandfather was slain by the Jedi. Your grandfather was cast into the belly of the Beast, yet he returned. Your mother, Velia the Progenator, gathered those brothers of Fett, unyoked them from the Will of the Emperor, and gathered them into the new clans. From the South the Loks. From the north the Fetts. From the east the Ordos, and from the West the Vislas. You, Redeemer, shall lead these clans again. It is your destiny, Mandalore the Greatest, to reclaim our home. Coruscant shall be your prize."  
"How many warriors have you now, Redeemer?"  
Jako was still groggy from sleep, but somehow, he KNEW in his heart that this vision was true. In his mind's eye, he saw the unbroken lineage of his people, bound not by blood, or race, but by the Creed of the Maandalorians. He knew, power and ecstasy rising in his soul, he KNEW that this was his destiny.  
"We have close to half a million."  
"And you have control over the system?"  
Eleven years past, aged only nineteen standard years, Jako and his dying mother had met with Rex, the leader of the clone troopers' descendents, many of whom had fought for, or against, the Empire. Including their families, they numbered almost three million, scattered across the galaxy. Jango Fett had insisted the clones be taught Mandalorian, and most of them had taught the language to their children and grandchildren.  
Of course, no clones had survived the sixty years since the end of the war due to their accelerated growth, but their children and grandchildren had. After the death of his mother, Jako had rallied these disparate people, organised them into Clans, and gathered them on Mandalore. Within a year, they had defeated the New Mandalorian pacifist army and reestablished control over the system as a whole. They had recreated their droids and fleet, and taken Jango Fett's helmet as the new Mask of Mandalore. Basic was used, but most of the population spoke Mandalorian.  
For five years, life had been good. At least until that damned Senator had arrived bringing news of these proposed reforms. Jako had already been leaning towards war, this vision had only confirmed his suspicions. He would announce his decision to the Chiefs of the Clans in the morning.  
*********  
"Order! Ordeeeeeer!"  
The strangulated yell of the Senate Speaker echoed around the chamber.  
"The urgent question is as displayed on your HoloScreens: as to how we react to these acts of aggression from the Mandalorian system, an extra-Republican system, and the Neimoidians, whose drones have engaged our armies in the atmosphere. I call to speak Caal Genroon, Viceroy of the Trade Federation, and Hugo Valorum, Chancellor of the Republic, respectively."  
The announcement of the Viceroy's name drew loud boos from the thousand assembled representatives, while Valorum's was greeted with loud acclaim.


	10. Defenders of the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few old friends return!

"Master Akiba. Your struggle will soon be over."

The voice which the Grand Master of the Jedi Order had come to know so well reverberated around the austere rooms of the Jedi. The Sentinel had been a frequent visitor to his mind, or room, depending on which way you looked at it, for some months now, mostly giving him cryptic advice about the war, which was generally contained in the Eastern Sector of the galaxy, or making impossibly veiled hints about the state of the Force.  
"Master Akiba, all is not as it seems. Those enemies who are arrayed against you are merely puppets of the Dark Side. Mysterious shadows are lurking around the edges. Yet today, a wonder shall return to the galaxy. The Age of the Sith is ending. A new age will begin."  
******  
The vast expanse of Tatooine stretched into the distance, the jade sky and golden desert merging into one monochrome haze. There were no signs of habitation for miles. All was calm.  
Yet in that moment, had anyone been there to experience it, something incredible happened. The air was filled with a strange rushing, coalescing from sound into light into matter. The surrounding area was filled with a blinding blue light, and seven figures appeared, dishevelled on the ground.  
The tallest was a middle aged man, tall and slender with long silver hair. He leapt to his feet with an expression of wonder on his strangely youthful face, smiling inscrutably.  
Next to him, a small green alien sat up. It was impossible to tell his age: old, certainly, but his walking stick and short white hair belied his catlike gait.  
The furthest from the group was a tall man with a long yet handsome face, and aquiline features. He remained seated, shaking his head as if to clear it.  
The next to stand was a dark skinned man, his expression serious and strong. He leapt to his feet, taking up a combat stance instantly.  
In this circle of fallen bodies, three man lay somewhat entangled. The shortest of the men, bearded and affable looking, sat up slowly. The tallest pulled the other to his feet, looking around pensively.  
"So that damned Sentinel was right. We DO have to save the Galaxy." Looking around, he mentally arranged all the faces he saw.  
"Obi-wan, I know you. Luke, obviously. Master Yoda. Mace. Qui Gon. And who's this gentlemen?" The man on the edge of the group smiled weakly before replying "Revan's the name."  
"Revan! THE Revan? Anakin Skywalker, fellow ex-Sith Lord at your service!"  
"Anakin, I don't think he wants to be reminded about his past!" interjected Obi-wan.


End file.
